What I Believed

I grew up believing

that goodness would earn respect.

To never say no,

to always adjust,

to make space for others

even when it meant shrinking myself.

But life revealed a quiet contradiction.

The more I gave, the less seriously I was taken.

My efforts became invisible,

and my presence felt optional.

It took me years to understand

that being "too good"

was not a flaw in my character,

but an imbalance I never learned to correct.

Value is not something to beg for or prove.

It is something that should quietly live within.

My kindness was never a performance.

It was never a transaction. It was simply who I was.

Many appreciated what I did,

but few truly respected who I was.

I learned that endless giving

creates an invisible imbalance.

My generosity slowly became exhausted.

People often value

what is given with intention,

more than what is always available.

Because my giving knew no limits,

it slowly lost its worth.

Without boundaries, my energy had no shape.

And somewhere beneath my kindness

was a fear I rarely admitted,

the fear of losing people,

of being abandoned,

of creating conflict.

So I kept giving.

Everyone received my actions,

my time, my effort.

But very few ever stopped long enough

to see the person behind them.

Now I understand:

Kindness without boundaries

becomes self-neglect.

Love without self-respect

becomes a sacrifice.

And giving means little

if I abandon myself in the process.

Today, I chose balance.

I can be kind without being available to everyone.

I can care without carrying everyone.

I can give without emptying myself.

Because my worth was never meant to come

from how much I offer others,

but from knowing that I am enough,

even when I offer nothing at all.

By

Sanji-Paul Arvind